Bittersweet Symphony
by JustWhelmed
Summary: Sometimes we need someone to tell us that everything will be okay. Sam has to remind Dean that they have a purpose after a hard night hunting a ghost.


Bittersweet Symphony

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The title comes from a fantastic song. Italics are flashback, just so ya know. Thanks to StaroftheDunedain for betaing this thing.

The silence was deafening. All that could be heard was the rumbling of the engine. The two hunters had some bruises and scrapes, nothing too bad, and were looking forward to crashing in their motel beds.

But they were too quiet, quieter even than when they were angry with each other. Not being able to take the silence any longer, the younger hunter finally spoke.

"What did you mean?" Sam asked.

"What?" Dean asked dryly, keeping his eyes on the road.

"When you were talking to that ghost back at the Anderson's house, what did you mean by that?"

"_Sam, duck!" Dean called out as he swung his iron crowbar at the ghost behind Sam._

_The ghost then appeared behind dean and threw him and Sam halfway across the room. _

"_Son of a bitch!" Dean called out as he and his brother rose to their feet. "Look buddy, I'm getting a little tired of you-"_

"_It's a bittersweet symphony, this life. Trying to make ends meet you're a slave to the money then you die. Your life has no true meaning. You have no purpose." The dead man said._

"_You're right." Dean said, lowering his crow bar as he stepped a little closer to the ghost._

_Sam stopped in his tracks and looked at his brother questioningly. The ghost cocked his head; he wasn't used to his victims agreeing with him, just pleading for their miserable lives. _

"_Life is bittersweet. Hell, it's downright crappy. I don't have a purpose." Dean said as he nodded his head slightly at Sam, hoping he figured out that he was telling him to get the rosary from the wall to burn it. For such a manipulative, killing ghost, he sure was religious. _

_Sam looked behind him and saw the rosary. That a boy, Sammy._

"_Come on! What are you waiting for?!" Dean yelled._

_The ghost then lunged for Dean's throat. He had quite the grip for a dead guy. While his attention was pointed towards one hunter, the other was able to grab the rosary, and get out his lighter and set it aflame._

"I was just distracting him, Sam. I didn't mean anything." Dean said as his hands tightened on the wheel.

"I'm not buying that," Sam said. He always could call his brother's bluff.

Dean could feel his brother's stern glare on him. He knew he wouldn't get out of this one.

Gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, Dean spoke, "That ghost had a point. Our lives are bittersweet."

"Maybe, but he wasn't right about the rest of the things he said." Sam said. Always the optimist.

"Wasn't he? I think he may have had a point."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it Sam, we've been used by angels and demons to do their dirty work. We have watched everyone we know and love die. Hell, we can barely win one battle before we're right back in a new one. What's the point?"

Sam hated to admit it, but maybe Dean was right. Why do they have to go through hell, literally and metaphorically, just to end right back at square one trying to figure out to go next in the big bad scary world of evil?

"I don't know." Sam replied. "But I think that we've been through everything because we have more purpose than most people."

"And what would that be?"

"Oh you know, 'hunting evil sons of bitches and saving people.' That's what we're supposed to do, Dean. You taught me that."

"I don't know if that's enough anymore."

"Why not?" Sam said, scowling at his brother.

"I don't know, it's just, nevermind."

"No, what, Dean?"

"I feel like all that we've seen lately is people dying more than being saved. And all those souls that I tortured, they're still in my brain." Dean said as he pointed to his head. "A million people in my mind, Sam, and they will never leave me."

Sam knew how hard it was on Dean whenever he talked about hell and what he did there. Sam knew that, even though he was the older brother, sometimes Dean needed someone to tell him that everything will be okay.

"That's why we have to keep fighting." Sam said. Dean looked at his brother briefly, telling him with his expression to continue.

Sam took a deep breath and spoke, "We have been through a lot, that's true. We have lost a couple times, that's also true. And yeah, sometimes we weren't able to save some people but you know what? We never stopped looking for a new case even when we had angels and demons breathing down our necks. I don't know what to say to make the pain of Hell leave you, Dean, but I do know that the best way for either one of us to heal is to never stop fighting and saving those who can't save themselves. We're hunters. That's what we do and we have a purpose, to save lives."

There was a brief silence before either brother spoke.

"When did you become the mascot for hunters?" Dean said with a small grin.

"Shut up." Sam replied, returning with a smile.

They rode the next mile in a comfortable silence and when Dean pulled into the motel parking lot, the two hunters were looking forward to a hot shower and a beer before bed.

Dean had the door to their unlocked and was about to walk in before he slightly turned to Sam and said, "Thanks."

Sam just smiled as he followed his brother inside.

Maybe their life was bittersweet but that doesn't mean that they would stop being who they are, Sam and Dean Winchester: hunters and heroes.

AN: I know, not the best thing ever but I would still love a review. Or pie…" love me some pie!"


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